The Morning and Evening Star
by Morning-Tide
Summary: After a very long reign, Rameses II waits for his death as he reflects on what has transpired in his reign. He is visited by the ghosts of his parents, as well as his brother, Moses, as he waits for death to take him to the western horizon.


_**Author's note: I base this on current research on the real Rameses II, including his approximate age of death (92), the name of the son who ascended the throne after him (Merenptah), and his general health would be pretty much what you'd expect for someone his age at time of death. Though I keep it ambiguous in this story, in real life, Rameses II outlived **_**twelve _of his sons; Merenptah being his 13th son who actually ascended the throne after him. _**_**The real Khaemwaset **_**did_ actually restore a lot of old temples and other ruins, and is considered the world's first Egyptologist. The Ancient Egyptians believed that the deceased's soul "went to the west" or to "the western horizon". Those who managed to pass judgement went on to "The Fields of Peace", or Amenti. /end history lesson. _**

**The Morning and Evening Star**

Pharaoh Rameses was due to die any day. Any day now, the morning and evening star would rise and set for the final time. The palace knew this, and even now, Rameses' son, Merenptah, had taken over the duties of the throne as co-regent. Rameses had reigned sixty-six years in Egypt, interrupted by many moons of horrendous plagues. The plagues' terror was followed by at least a decade's worth of moon cycles to restore the land. Not a day went by when he didn't think about his firstborn son, who had fallen victim to the Plague of the Firstborn. Throughout the land that night, there was no parent who could claim they hadn't been affected by a death. It had been Moses' God's war against the Egyptians, heavy with the bodies of collateral damage, and his deity had won. Rameses had sought revenge for the deaths of not just his son, but _all_ of Egypt's sons, and lost once again. At the same moment his army was wiped out, Rameses knew he could taste nothing but defeat against Moses' god, and unless he learned from this harsh lesson, Egypt would be no more.

Lately, his thoughts turned to those who had loved him in his lifetime: his father, mother, brother, his children, and wives. His long dead Chief Royal Wives—Nefertari and Isetnofret—had provided him with numerous daughters and sons, but tragically many princes died before Merenptah. Many perished to disease in infancy and childhood, a sadly common occurrence in Egypt. Yet, every time a prince succumbed to death's clutches, Rameses had wondered if this had been the Hebrew God's punishment for his stubbornness in not letting the Hebrew slaves free. For a long time, Rameses had feared he wouldn't have an heir who would sit on his throne after his death. Finally, as though the divine had forgiven him, a bevy of healthy, robust princes blessed the palace with their presence.

One prince, Khaemwaset, had no interest in the throne, but only a great passion for restoring the ruins of Egypt to their former glory. Rameses had honoured this son greatly for his desire to restore Egypt to her former glory, and had given him his favourite ring off his finger. Khaemwaset had worn the royal blue and gold ring of his father with great pride from the first day he gained the title. Rameses could remember his expression as clearly now as on that day: an expression of both great joy and undying respect for the pharaoh. Khaemwaset oversaw all restorations and ensured no one damaged any buildings or reconstructions in progress. No chance of anyone getting away with a reckless chariot race through a Temple of Ra as Rameses and Moses had done many decades ago.

Until, that is, he died, and his full-blooded brother, Merenptah, now took first in line for the throne. Though he loved Merenptah as any father would, Rameses remained forever affected by Khaemwaset's death. After Khaemwaset's passing, Merenptah now wore the blue and gold ring in recognition of his place as Crown Prince, Co-Regent, and future Morning and Evening Star. Rameses knew Merenptah would take care of it for as long as he lived and reigned on the throne. He knew he could trust his son and future Morning and Evening Star. Any day now, a new Morning Star would rise over the land of Egypt.

Now, as the late afternoon sun filtered into his room, Rameses closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain of an infected tooth and his arthritic joints. He didn't want to think about his aged joints and the deep wrinkles that now lined his 92-year-old face. His joints had long passed their usefulness, and his limbs had wasted away, leaving them skin and bones. Even his mind became as an old boat full of leaky parts, the water of forgetfulness and ailing mental health dampening his trains of thoughts. His hair had thinned, leaving a rim of white tendrils around the base of his scalp. He could hardly believe that once upon a time he had been a strong young man, racing headlong in chariot races, and practicing archery in competition with his then-brother, Moses. How could they have been so young once? The excitable fitness of youth now seemed a distant and whimsical dream.

He had no energy nowadays to even sit up and embrace any of his beloved children and grandchildren. It tugged at his heart when the tinier grandchildren implored a hug from their grandfather, the great Pharaoh Rameses. Nevertheless, they were still content and happy if he at least offered them a pat on the shoulder and a few words to bless their day. He'd never show it, but it hurt inside to know they were watching him dying. One day, their beloved relative would never rise again. Sometimes even his own heart ached so badly in his chest that the pain spread under his shoulder and chest. It had been happening a lot more recently too; Rameses vaguely recalled the physician telling him the symptoms only meant one thing was for sure: imminent death. He could accept that; he'd lived long enough. He couldn't care less about seeing his 93rd birthday. Ninety-two years was more than long enough. Rameses wanted to welcome death with open arms, and he would do it alone—he didn't want any of his loved ones to see his death, and especially not so the youngest of his descendants.

_Rameses…_

Rameses could hear his name whispered, almost as though the breeze itself had spoken.

_Rameses…your evening star is setting…_

The voice sounded so familiar, like he'd heard it before in his lifetime.

_Rameses…you are going to the west…_

To the west—he knew full well what that meant. Was it his soul flying away?

_Rameses…_

Another voice, softer even than the first now spoke his name. He couldn't tell if the word was spoken by a man, woman, or his own heart.

_We will take you there, _it promised, _when your soul departs, we will take you west. Your reign has ended. _

_Our grandson will be fine, _the first voice promised.

Rameses could feel his heart hammering, as though desperately racing toward the end. _Our _grandson? Why would the souls of his parents speak to him here? Why wouldn't they stay in their tomb?

_Open your eyes…you shall see our faces… _the second whispered with the love of a mother.

The old pharaoh opened his eyes slowly, hardly daring to think he had merely heard their voices. Yet, they had sounded so real, like they were right next to him. He hadn't seen his father's and mother's faces in so long, he had almost forgotten what they looked like. Expecting to see aged ghosts next to him, to his surprise their faces were young. It seemed as though death had restored their youth. Queen Tuya and King Seti had become young and rejuvenated with new life—albeit life in the west, in the Fields of Peace. He reached weakly with a hand toward his mother, but she held up a hand, shaking her head sadly.

_You cannot touch us while you are living…_ she explained, _but when you pass to the west, Rameses, you can. Only you can see us as your soul readies itself to journey to the western horizon._

"Why are you here?" Rameses whispered.

_You don't want your living relatives to see you take your last breath, _Seti said, _but we forbid you go completely alone. We wait. _

Rameses managed a weak inhalation, "Father…"

_I know what you will ask, _Seti interrupted, _And I must say I was disappointed in you during the plagues. _

Rameses felt his heart would stop right then—he knew it all along. The weak—

_We _both_ were, _Tuya hastened to add in a gentler tone, _but you have learned your lesson and passed what you have learned onto your descendants who would have the throne. _

Seti coughed gently, interrupting his wife.

_Your mother is right, _Seti agreed, _but you have proved me wrong. You have proven yourself…worthy. _

Rameses could feel his shoulders relax. "Worthy."

Worthiness and strength he had strove for all his reign—and Seti was satisfied, as was Tuya. Rameses could have let himself let go of life right then, knowing his father was proud of him, but something still bothered his heart. Though deeply grateful to see his parents—even as ghosts from the other world—Moses was not there. Did he still live? Or had he already died, but refused to associate with the Egyptians even in death?

Like a bird's feather, Tuya's fingers gently brushed Rameses' cheek.

_Something bothers you, _Tuya observed, _I believe I know why._

Rameses tried to push his adoptive brother out of his mind, closing his eyes. "Nothing bothers me."

_You choose to deny him as your brother, _Seti criticised, _even in death. _

Rameses had no idea what Seti was talking about. Just because he had long ago pushed Moses out of his mind didn't mean he denied him as brother, even in title only—not necessarily flesh-and-blood.

The queen's weightless ghost sat down on the bed next to Rameses, who opened his eyes as he felt her hand gently alighting on his wrist. Unexpectedly, her hand had warmth, and not the chill of death Rameses expected.

_My son, do you not know he regretted everything that had to happen? _Tuya asked gently, her eyes oddly bright, _he mourned—wept—as much as Egypt herself for the death of the innocents and of the firstborn on the same night they died. Yes, he did mourn for _your _firstborn. It was the last thing he wanted. I speak true, Rameses. _Tuya quickly brushed away a tear from her eyes.

"How do you know?"

_He has told me, for he has spoken and visited me in the west. _

"You mean he's…" Rameses began, before his words faded out. For some reason, the idea of Moses dead felt absurd. He had always been full of vivaciousness, but even he had to have aged too. Only that being that he died before Rameses. Somehow, he felt Moses should have lived longer. Even despite their prior animosity, Rameses still felt a tug of kinship for him. He regretted wanting him killed along with the Hebrews that day he'd rode after the Hebrews with his army and chariots.

_Yes, he has passed too—about a decade ago, _his mother confirmed,_ but he resides with his people at Mount Sinai after forty years of wandering in the desert, and seeing the Promised Land. He left behind two very beloved sons._

This was news to him. "Sons?"

_Two sons, _Seti said, _and two sons who will take his place in leading the Hebrews through their new home. He did not allow them to see him die either, but only in the presence of his deity. _

Tuya gave Rameses the smallest of smiles, _Much like you—you do not wish your relatives to see you take your final breath either._

_You two are not dissimilar, _Seti added, _you have seen he can be just as stubborn in his duties as you. He is not my flesh and blood, but I see similarities. You and he learned responsibility, became leaders of people, and grew out of prior irresponsibility. _

"The chariot race…" Rameses guessed.

Did Seti's mouth twitch in the beginnings of a smile? _I may be speaking of that incident…amongst others. _

_You were enemies, _Tuya continued, _but he still remembers you. _

Rameses felt his mind slipping away, his heart slowing down, readying for eternal sleep. But he wanted to ask one last question before he passed. He had to know. After all, it was his own stubbornness and pride that had brought horror and despair upon Egypt. He had brought about the terrible deaths of all the firstborn sons. He had ridden after the Hebrews, seeking revenge, costing him an entire army. Defeated and alone, he had shouted Moses' name on that rock, knowing the latter could never hear his anger and anguish—not from across an entire sea. How could anyone forgive him all that?

"Mother…" Rameses struggled through a strangely constricted inhalation, "does he…forgive me?"

Tuya stood up, standing once again beside her husband. _That's for him to say, my son. _

But she no longer looked at him; rather, her eyes had moved to gaze at another part of the room. With dimming eyes, Rameses followed her gaze, before his eyelids closed. He had no energy left to open them again. His eyes lay still under closed eyelids. Moments passed as no voices spoke—not even his mother or father seemed to sigh. It seemed almost as if the old king and queen were waiting quietly, letting someone else talk.

_Rameses? _

Rameses' heart stirred at the memory of that voice—his brother's voice. He tried to say something, but even words cost too much energy. He felt so tired now, like death now wrapped its heavy arms about him. Yet, he could feel a hand on his shoulder, light as a breeze.

_He still breathes, _Rameses' mother whispered.

_Do you hear me? _

Rameses managed the smallest of nods. A short silence.

_I can see you have learned from your ways, _Moses' voice began, strangely quiet, _You have restored Egypt to her former glory, yet passed on what you have learned from your mistakes to your sons next in line. _

_And? _Rameses thought, unable now to say it aloud.

_You have proved yourself a worthy link in the dynasty, someone who can change their heart for the better. _

_Now you're just sounding like father, Moses, _Rameses thought.

_He doesn't have long, _Seti warned sharply.

Moses apparently got the message, as he delivered the last words Rameses would hear in the world of the living, even from a ghost.

_Why shouldn't I forgive you after what you've done to fix your mistakes and know true regret for your actions? Our mother and father are right. You've never stopped being my brother, Rameses. Never._

The words gave Rameses one final, guttering flame of energy. Opening his eyes, he could almost make out the ghost of Moses looking down at him, youthful in death once again. No lines criss-crossed his face, his hair and beard were brown, not grey, and right now, he looked at Rameses with the beginnings of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. No sign of anger or frustration—just forgiveness and compassion. His brown eyes held no grief or pain. Rameses allowed himself a small smile, relieved to hear his brother's words and see the genuine care in Moses' expression. He had truly been forgiven. They had _always_ been brothers all along.

"The Morning and Evening Star is content." Rameses whispered as he closed his eyes for the last time, surrendering himself forever to the embrace of death.


End file.
